Forsaken Character Chronicles: The Clairvoyant
by Mitsumaru
Summary: A master of the demon arts without reciting a single incantation. A master swordfighter without touching a single blade. A wielder of spiritual power without even realizing it. Her name: Kurosaki Yuzu.
1. Chapter 1

**Forsaken Character Chronicles Book 1:**

**Kurosaki Yuzu**

**­­****The Clairvoyant**

**Chapter 1: Jealousy**

--X--

_April 17, 20XX_

_Dear Diary, _

_I hate fairy tales._

_I used to like them, but I don't like them anymore. They just bother me now, especially a certain archetype that just likes to make itself known in just about every fairy tale I've read. _

_I'm sure you've noticed them, too. You know, the fair maiden trapped in a building or pursued by someone "evil" only to be saved by some dashing Prince Charming, banishing the evil from the land with the power of true love? That's the kind of story that I just hate. _

_Why, you ask? Two reasons. The first: because it's not real! It's never happened and it never will happen! The second: because I know exactly what it's like to be the "damsel in distress". Of all of the things that you see in fairy tales, this is probably the only thing that can happen. _

_You see, the world has come as close to the afterlife as physically possible. It's not close to heaven or hell, but sandwiched somewhere in between. It's hard to explain, especially since I was just told this today, but…well…_

_The thing is; there is something called Soul Society in the afterlife. It's not quite heaven, but it is pretty close…at least, as far as I know it is. These people called Soul Reapers—shinigami—pass dead souls on to Soul Society. Simple, right? Well, it gets more complex. There's also this world called Hueco Mundo—home of the mortal enemies of the shinigami—the hollows. It's an ongoing battle between these two opposing forces. And, caught in the middle of their battle is our world; the perfectly "normal" plane of existence that houses the battle that can tear away life…and death as we know it. _

_The shinigami have allies on our side—my friends and family. In fact, big brother and daddy both have the abilities of the shinigami, complete with the magical spirit swordsmanship thing that they all do. My twin sister has her skill in soccer, which has transformed into a force to be reckoned with. _

_My other friends have powers as well. True, they're mostly my brother's friends, but they all have their own special abilities. One of them is a shinigami, but all the others have their unique powers (She said that the powers they have came from a leak in spiritual energy from my brother, but I have no idea what that means.)_

_As for me, however, well…I have nothing. Thankfully, I can see the spirits (in fact, that's how I figured out about this whole spiritual plane and everything), but I can't do anything!! Whenever something is attacked by a hollow (or whatever they're called), I can only run away and wait for one of my friends to come and rescue me! _

…_What? You think I'm jealous? I'm not jealous! I'm perfectly fine with not being able to help my friends as they risk their lives to save the world as we know it. I'm just dandy living in fear of the horrible beasts that attack our world. I cannot be happier with running away from anything that goes "bump" in the night, relying on my friends to save me so I can survive to see the sun rise. _

…_Okay, okay…stop looking at me funny. Fine, I'm jealous. It's frustrating knowing that I have to be the damsel in distress every single day, cursed with the knowledge of what endangers us all. Instead going about my day in perfect bliss; unknowing of the looming evil or knowing about the evil and fighting against what can destroy us all, I'm caught in the middle, knowing, but not being able to fight. _

_It's just…just…well…I've run long enough. _

--X--

I remembered the time when I wrote this diary entry. It seemed so long ago since _that _time... But, then again from the time I wrote this diary entry, it seemed like years had passed when, in reality only weeks had. Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're curious about it, right? Well, I'll be happy to tell you the whole story.

…You are? Well, thanks in advance for listening to me. And no, I'm not mad at you for reading my diary. That's the old one anyway. If you read my _other _diary, however, that would have been different. Oh, by the way, did you _understand_ what you read in my diary? It's kind of necessary to get the story I'm about to tell you. Good. Anyway…

It all started with a normal hollow attack as I walked home from school. Since the day I awakened my spiritual sight, a guard was assigned to follow me around. I didn't know whether or not they had tabs on me before then, but that doesn't really matter anymore. Kuchiki Rukia, the shinigami friend that you read about. You know, the one that told me all that mumbo-jumbo about my brother's friends gaining powers from the excess energy rolling off of him. It was a normal day, I think, but I can't be sure. I don't really remember much about that day except a certain event that changed my role in the shinigami-hollow war forever.

The hollow appeared out of nowhere. The demented mask and the hole bored through its chest terrified me (even if it seemed familiar), so I screamed as it approached. I felt a harsh tug on my wrist and I staggered away from the beast, running as Kuchiki-san pulled me along. I think I heard her mutter something about a "stupid gigai", but I wasn't really paying attention. I was still transfixed on the roaring monster behind me.

Suddenly, as I looked towards Kuchiki-san, I felt like my arms and legs were made of lead. I willed them to move, but I couldn't. My vision whited out as I began to hear a faint voice.

"If you let me eat you, I'll tell you…" something said, chuckling darkly as it spoke.

It felt like I narrowed my eyes and dashed forward two steps; my second step landing hard upon the ground as I leapt up. My knee met the face of a hollow—a different hollow, I remember—as my vision set in place. My hand jutted out and grabbed the top of the mask as I flipped over it and landed on the hollow's back.

It was weird, though. I didn't think about doing any of those things. My body just…did it. I couldn't understand why, but it just came naturally.

It only got weirder.

"Ye Lord," I said, hearing Kuchiki-san's voice leave my mouth. "Mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings," I said as I crouched down low, focusing some sort of energy through my body.

"Ye who bears the name of Man," I said as I leapt up off of the hollow's back. "Truth and Temperance," I continued, "Bear thy claws slightly upon the wall of sinless dreams!"

I saw my hand jut out once more; a pale, blue energy wrapped around it. My mouth opened once again, exposing a piecing shout. "_Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui!_" It felt like a cannon shell left my hand as a blue flame shot out in a fireball, striking the creature's back. My vision began to white out once more as the ball exploded; smoke billowing out of the hollow's back.

"_Binding Art 9: Geki!" _I heard suddenly; the voice once again belonging to Kuchiki-san, but not coming out of my mouth.

My sight returned instantly, as did my ability to move. I turned toward the hollow in time to see it engulfed in a red light; roaring in frustration as it struggled to move. I turned back around as I heard Kuchiki-san's voice again, accompanied by rushed footsteps. "Mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings," she muttered as she ran past me; eyes shut in concentration.

As if possessed, I turned a third time, lifted my hand, and began to chant something fairly similar. "Ye Lord; Mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings," I said in a quickened whisper.

Kuchiki-san and I raised our voices in unison, saying the next line of the incantation.

"Ye who bears the name of Man!" my voice rang out as I felt a rush of energy flow through me. I stared down the face of the hollow as Kuchiki-san's widened eyes darted in my direction; her body grinding to a halt. My possessed mind seemed to ignore her as I continued without pause.

"Truth and Temperance; bear thy claws slightly upon the wall of sinless dreams!"

I noticed Kuchiki-san's widening eyes as I prepared to release the spell in the way that I just saw. She darted her eyes back towards the hollow; her mouth moving slightly—doubtless the finishing part of her incantation. We shouted our spells out in unison once more; the shouts fighting each other's presence instead of melding together like the last time.

"_Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui!"_ I yelled.

"_Destructive Art 63: Soren Sôkatsui!"_ she yelled.

Two blue fireballs shot out of Kuchiki-san's hand and flew toward the hollow's mask, exploding on contact. I felt a recoil shock comparable to a shotgun blast as a blue fireball left mine; hurtling towards the hollow's mask; the combined might of the three fireballs blasting through the creature's head.

I remember chuckling softly at the display; watching the creature before me disintegrate into dust in the wind; holding my arm's raised position dumbly as I tried to take in the fact that I actually was able to _help_ in the battle instead of running and hiding.

Suddenly exhausted, I fell back toward the ground below, smiling a small smile as I dropped down towards the ground.

I blacked out then. I have no idea what happened afterward, but I remember thinking about how it felt to finally act on my desire to help. It's one of my best memories of the war, and it still stays with me to this day.

--X--

_And so, the saga begins. Memories can only take an event in time so far, so blanks are undoubtedly left behind; fragments of events that lay scattered in the grand flow of time. But, the events still exist, not as a memory, but as a previous reality; nothing more. _

_Yuzu fell towards the ground with a thump as she lost consciousness; her previously outstretched arm limply falling to her side. Her exhausted, yet almost giddy expression was a great contrast to the expression that Rukia was currently carrying—an expression of worry and fear. She ran over to Yuzu's falling body and managed to reach it with a mere fraction of a second to spare before she hit the ground. She gave her body an once-over as her face relaxed into an expression that could only be described as a mixture of confusion and relief. _

"_She only has signs of spiritual energy exhaustion, but I still don't get what just happened…," Rukia thought as she checked Yuzu's vital signs. As she propped Yuzu onto her back and started to walk toward the Kurosaki residence, she pondered in silence as to the source of Yuzu's knowledge of the demonic arts. _

--X--

A/N: This is going to be interesting, isn't it?


	2. Chapter 2

**Forsaken Character Chronicles Book 1:**

**Kurosaki Yuzu**

**­­The Clairvoyant**

**Chapter 2: Confusion**

--X--

My parents never really told me about their past. It was weird; everything in our house was something to talk about. It didn't matter if the topic was what happened to school, the quality of dinner, or the mysterious goop that stuck to the bottom of Yamada Satoshi's shoe this morning. It was all fair game. Whenever I brought the past up, though, Mommy and Daddy would just smile at me and say, "We'll tell you when you're older." Well, I'm older now—I'm 14! I should be able to know about it.

That's what drove me to look trough the attic today. After hours and hours of pushing and digging through boxes, I finally found something that might be interesting: a dusty purple book with the words "Yuzu's diary" on the cover.

So, I started reading it. It was nothing interesting, though; time at school, hanging out with friends, blah, blah, blah. But, there was one entry that surprised me the most: April 17th. I could read the words, but I didn't really know what it meant. And I consider myself pretty smart (especially with the way Mommy tells stories to me…"upper-level language", she says…). Soul Society? Shinigami? Hollows? What the heck was all this stuff?

Before I could read the next entry, however, I saw the book being snatched away. I turned quickly to see my mom, flipping back to the start of the entry.

"I remembered the time when I wrote this diary entry. It seemed so long ago since _that _time... But, then again from the time I wrote this diary entry, it seemed like years had passed when, in reality only weeks had. Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're curious about it, right? Well, I'll be happy to tell you the whole story."

And so I listened to my mom talk on and on about hollows and shinigami and spiritual power, amazed at the story. If it wasn't my mom talking, I would have been sure that this was all one big lie. But, with my mom here, as well as the tone she was using, it was pretty hard not to believe. She was speaking in something that I could guess was truthfulness and something that I couldn't quite get…

…Which brings us to where we are now. I can't sleep. After a story like that, there was no way I could relax long enough to do so. So, I threw off my bedcovers and headed down the stairs to our house. I saw my mom finishing off the dishes from dinner, so I walked up to her and poked her in the shoulder (and that's with my arm fully outstretched).

"Mommy, would you tell me more about the shinigami and the hollows?"

She turned to me and smiled, putting away the last dish and wiping her hands on her apron. "Sure honey, just meet me on the couch. I'll give you something that will answer all of your questions."

I walked out of the kitchen and into the family room, sitting on the couch. A few minutes later, Mommy came out of the kitchen. She stayed true to her word and showed me something: a dusty purple book with the words "Yuzu's diary" on the cover.

"If you have any questions, fell free to ask me. I wrote all of that as soon as I could; writing down my thoughts so it didn't seem like I was crazy. Now that I think about it, it was pretty childish," she said. She laughed softly at this, continuing after a short giggle break. So…if you want me to skip the unnecessary detail, I wouldn't blame you," Mommy said as she sat next to me. I shook my head in response to her offer. I liked how she told stories; the way she told them always made them all seem real, even the fairy tales she says she hated so much. She smiled shortly after. I have a feeling that she likes putting the detail in as well.

She began to tell me the story, glancing into her diary occasionally to find her place.

--X—

I woke up the next morning to a shout that I found extremely familiar.

"**GOOOOOOD MOORNIIING, ICHI-GO!!" **

Yeah, it's the same shout that you heard Grandpa yell during the week that both he and your uncle Ichigo came to visit. I sat up bolt upright as soon as I heard it, but regretted it soon after when I got a splitting headache courtesy of my _apparently_ exhausted state. I didn't know why back then, but I was **_extremely_** tired that morning. I fell back down onto my fluffy bed, clutching the blankets and curling them around my body to protect me from the coldness of my room, however difficult it seemed to be. I closed my eyes, trying to detach the feeling of my steel-weight-like arms and legs from my tranquil mindscape.

Now, that morning, I thought wholeheartedly that the event from the day before was a part of an elaborate dream. Back then, I thought it was a little scary at first because I was running away from one of those hollow things with Kuchiki-san, but I found myself thinking something along the lines of "I actually helped beat away the monster instead of running away like a beheaded chicken! It was so thrilling! Too bad it was just a dream, though."

A "ka-chick" sound drew my attention toward a door; my door. The door opened slowly, as if to not wake someone and in stepped a medium-sized, black-haired, slender girl carrying a tray of what looked like medicine and food. As she closed the door behind her, she looked up to meet my half-cast eyes.

Yes, this is your aunt Karin. You remember her, right? Back then, to people other than me (and occasionally your uncle Ichigo), she would seem like either a fully apathetic person without much of a care for anything or an angry/brooding little girl. To be put bluntly, she's my direct opposite—and this just so happens to include the opposition to my apparent lack of spiritual power. She has just enough spiritual power to knock out a low-class hollow, but she's been working on her abilities (which, oddly enough, involve her excellent ability in soccer).

"So, you're up. Took ya long enough…" she said, the dull expression on her face being betrayed by the shine of relief in her eyes, "You're the only one in this family who's actually sane enough for me not to strangle, ya know? Don't knock yourself out like that again, okay?"

"Knock myself out?" I asked, confused by her remark. Her mouth twisted into an odd angle, conveying her confusion.

"You don't remember? Rukia said you guys were attacked by a hollow and you were knocked out. She came home with you on her back," she said almost nonchalantly, despite her confused expression, "What'd you do anyway, ya klutz?"

"I…don't remember…" I said slowly, trying to recall yesterday, but only seeing the vivid dream of the attack. Well, there was a hollow, if Karin is telling the truth, and there was Rukia, so…

"No way…it couldn't be…" I thought.

I looked at my hands; my eyes narrowing in concentration. My pale palms looked back at me in confusion, as if to say, "What did we do? It was _your _dream. How can _we _know any more than you do?"

"What are you doing?" Karin asked, a tint of confusion lying underneath the normal tone of bored aggravation that her voice usually held. I looked up at her face, her inquisitive eyes contrasting her nearly apathetic expression.

"Nothing," I said quickly, averting my gaze. Karin rolled her eyes at me.

"Whatever, weirdo…just drink your medicine and eat when you get hungry. I'll be back later after I throw some bandages at Dad."

It was at this point when I heard the typical trashing, crashing, and bashing that usually come at this time. My brother's voice sailed in from behind my wall; an angry yell accompanying the sounds of scuffle. I sighed in exasperation. It was just your typical day in the Kurosaki household…

Except…

My hands drew my attention once more. They looked the same as before.

"If what happened in my dream was actually what…happened, then…" I thought to myself at the time.

I sat up again, my tired state washed away by my ever-growing curiosity. I clenched my fists repeatedly, trying to grasp the air or materialize something magical. Then, I remembered some of the specifics of the dream and got an idea.

"Ye Lord," I chanted, "mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings; ye who bears—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I heard a stern voice say, interrupting my incantation. "Just because you know the incantation doesn't mean you've mastered the spell," the voice finished; the tone holding firm. I looked toward my window and saw a familiar, black-haired girl—the same girl I was running with in my dream—Kuchiki-san.

Confused, I looked up at her face only to be met with an expression of utmost seriousness. There was no humor in her voice at all, though there was a twinkle of confusion behind her pupils. "Spell?" I asked, cocking my head to the side slightly.

"It's called Kidô: a demonic art that is to be used by soul reapers," she said calmly; jumping into the room and walking towards my bed, "And _you _used one of them last night," she finished, staring at me with a cold glare. There was no anger in it, but it was still an expression that I prefer not to see very often. I just stayed in place, practically frozen by the chill in her eyes.

She suddenly sighed then, tearing her eyes away from mine, "Look, Yuzu, all I want to know is how you managed to do that." She turned back toward me, her eyes now kinder and warmer, but no less confused, "You had _no_ prior experience with spiritual power, let alone demonic arts before yesterday's battle and yet you managed to perform a **_flawless_** level 33 destructive spell. It's just something I need to know."

"That…" I began carefully, trying to process what was inexplicitly said, "That really happened?" I asked, still not truly accepting of the claim that yesterday's events did actually **_happen_**. Kuchiki-san nodded slowly, keeping her eyes fixed onto mine. I looked down towards my hands. "Wow," I said, a feeling of wondrous excitement filling my being, "I can't believe I _actually _did that."

"Do you know _how _you did it?" Kuchiki-san asked.

I looked up to her again, hiding my excitement as best as I could—which, admittedly, wasn't very effective. "I'm not too sure," I said, my newborn cheer invading my voice as I took up a contemplative look—which was not too contemplative due to my giddiness, "I had this vision of myself taking down a hollow using that spell. The problem was…it was your voice was leaving my mouth…"

Instantly, Kuchiki-san's eyes widened. She quickly took up a piece of paper and a pencil and started to draw something. As she drew, she asked me a question; her voice strained as she tried to place detail in her work, "Did it…look…kind of…like…_this_?" she asked as she turned over the sheet of paper, showing me her artistic rendition of a hollow: a teddy bear-like drawing with a triangular-like head…

"Um…no…" I said slowly, trying not to giggle at the poor resemblance to the hollow I saw. "But…" I started, "it did have a trapezoid-like head. Here, let me show you."

I took the paper and pencil gently and began to draw a trapezoidal head attached to a body that could only be described to as a black version of a mutated frog's body: hind legs firmly rooted and front legs outstretched slightly in front of it; back hunched over in an inhumanly low slouch. It was something that was difficult to draw, but easy to draw from memory. It was a fresh image, after all.

Before I could finish, however, my door clicked open again, revealing your uncle Ichigo. He walked in with his usual scowl and stood right night to my bed, resting a hand on my head. He looked at the paper I was drawing on and looked at one of the drawings. I wasn't sure which one he looked at immediately, but I found out soon enough when he spoke.

"Your drawings still suck; you know that?" he asked, facing Kuchiki-san as he spoke. I giggled softly, attempting to be discreet. Kuchiki-san, in response to the insult, found something to him with and proceeded to thump him on the head. The offending object this time was her backpack…apparently filled with books due to the way Ichi-nii rubbed his head afterward with his free hand.

The subject of Kidô never rose again that morning.

--X—

"So…it was never asked about again?" I asked, looking at my mom with an expecting look.

"Oh no," she said, "It came up again, all right. If it didn't I wouldn't have a story to tell you, now would I?" She punctuated her question with a gentle smile. The statement puzzled me, though. It gave me a vague feeling that this was at least a little bit made up.

"Mom, did this all really happen?"

Given the stuff actually said in the story, you couldn't really blame me for the question I asked, now could you?

Now, there were three possible responses to this question. One: she says that it is true with a serious tone meaning that she's serious about the events in the story. Two: she says that it is true with a looser tone, possibly one of the gentle nature; meaning she's lying to me. Three: She says the story is false outright; deciding to either drop the story or continue the story as it is as a fairy tale.

"The story I'm telling is completely true. Do you think I'd write down a false diary just to fool you about my past?" she asked with a smile and a jesting tone of voice.

She took the middle road between options one and two. It's an annoying predicament; I will have to judge its truthfulness later on. It's a good thing it's a good story.

Without my interruptions, she continued on.

--X—

The subject of Kidô was touched upon again later on with another hollow attack on the way to school. This attack was different, however, due to a couple of reasons. You'll figure out the rest of the differences as I describe it to you, but the first major difference was as simple as counting—literally. There were more forces on the hollow side this time around; initially there was a battle between the 2 shinigami allies—Kuchiki-san and I—and 15 hollows.

This time, Kuchiki-san was ready for them. She pressed a gloved hand to her head and there was a shockwave of some sort. Her body, still wearing the school uniform, was on the ground, pushing herself up to her feet. Her spirit, wearing the standard black robes of a shinigami, was standing in front of her body, holding the hilt of her sword, ready to draw it.

The body walked up behind me and tugged on my arm: something that would have signaled me to go with it in the past. But now that I could defend myself, I didn't need such protection. The body looked toward the spirit, and Kuchiki-san said in her usual serious tone, "There's no need this time around. Just take cover."

The body responded accordingly, releasing my arm and going toward a nearby alleyway. I moved my arms upward into the same position as it was last time and started to chant the incantation again.

"Ye Lord; mask of blood and flesh; all creation; flutter of wings; ye who bears the name of Man," I began, trying to hone in on the energies I used before. Before I shut my eyes to do so, I saw Kuchiki-san leap into action—her sword at the ready—to fight off the hollows around us.

"Truth and Temperance," I continued, still trying to locate the source of the surge that I felt in the last battle, "Bear thy claws slightly upon the wall of sinless dreams!" I finished with a shout. I felt a surge—not as big as the one from the last battle, but still tangible enough for me to feel that I could complete the spell.

My eyes snapped open and my mouth unleashed the name of the spell just as a hollow was approaching me; slipping through the defensive line that Kuchiki-san had established, albeit weakly due to the difference in numbers. _"Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui!"_

The rush of energy was there. I felt it. The drain of energy soon after was there. I felt it. The one thing missing was, of course, the attack itself. There was no blue fireball leaving my hand at mach speed. There was no satisfying explosion. There was only the release of energy and a pathetic puff of pale white smoke leaving the palm of my hand.

The hollow looked at me as if to laugh at my misfortune, and then raised its horrible hand to strike me. I fell to the ground, exhausted once more, but not to the point where I knocked out. I looked in horror as the bony claws of the hollow drew ever closer. I shut my eyes in terror, bracing myself for the rip in flesh that was bound to come next.

The next thing I heard was not the sound of ripping, but a clang. The next thing I felt was not a piercing pain, but a rush of wind. I opened my eyes slowly and saw the familiar back of a shinigami robe. Kuchiki-san was looking seriously at me, as if to say, "We'll talk later." She then turned to gaze at the hollow with something that was doubtless a glare and parried the bony claws, using her superior agility to jump and slice through the hollow's mask. I could only watch, exhausted, as Kuchiki-san dispatched the other remaining 3 hollows.

It was mortifying. It was disheartening.

It was completely **_infuriating_**.

--X—

"And now, it is time for you to go to bed, my dear," mom said as she looked towards me with a smile—a complete contrast to the almost angry way she was saying those last lines. It was like she changed personalities.

She pointed to the digital clock on the coffee table, which read a luminescent 11 o'clock. It was fairly late for me, after all. I never knew how fast time can pass. I agree with what mom said to me about bed (which was sounding better and better by the minute), but I'm still disappointed. She practically left me hanging with those lines at the end of her story today. I move to give mom a look, but she was already a step ahead of me.

"If you're that curious, go ahead and read it. I won't mind if you're reading this one. Just don't let it interfere too much with your studies, alright?" she said, gently smiling once more.

That's right…I have school tomorrow. I really _do _need to get to bed, huh?

I take the book and kiss mom goodnight, scampering up the stairs to my room. I left the book on my bedside table, closing the lights to go to sleep.

--X—

_Stories are often censored to fit the audience. If it is deemed inappropriate, it will be removed from the story before reaching the virgin ears of the innocent. This story is no different. However, the censored bits of the story were not due to inappropriateness. It was more of an issue of reluctance. What kind of child would like to know that his mother entertained demeaning thoughts—the kind of thoughts that mothers frown upon due to the positive things they see in their children? It would be completely hypocritical. _

_So, the part of the story that depicts Yuzu as a self-demeaning person was omitted from the verbal retelling. All of the comments that Yuzu said that described her existence as useless were passed over, even if it is written in black and white in the very diary she passed down to her child. The difference between word of mouth and text is the fact that word of mouth can be much clearer than that of a diary entry in some cases. It was certainly a gamble due to the fact that a confused reader could merely read the confusing phrase over and over until something makes sense, but it was something that Yuzu felt was not of her son's nature, therefore, he would not really pay the demeaning phrases much mind when her diary depicts her elaborating on how useless she was before the manifestation of her powers and, more recently, in the battle with the 15 hollows. And, that is what Yuzu was counting on when the dusty purple book accompanied her child upstairs—that the message of the self-destructive attitude will never be passed on, despite how her irritation at her own inabilities shone brightly in her harried writing in the part of the entry soon after the description of the battle. _

--X—

A/N: So…that's Chapter 2. I worked pretty hard on this chapter, even if I kind of made it up as I went along…


	3. Chapter 3

**Forsaken Character Chronicles Book 1:**

**Kurosaki Yuzu**

**­­****The Clairvoyant**

**Chapter 3: Exhaustion**

**--X—**

School is dull with a capital "D". The regular school day consists of a riveting 6 classes with a lunch period and a study hall. We're given classwork and homework in almost every class, but the assignments are fairly easy. As a way of showing this is true, I'm going to say that I've finished all of my homework within the first 15 minutes of study hall since I did so much of it after I was done with the classwork in each of my classes. So now I have nothing to do. What could I do anyway? I could wait for my friends to finish so we could "collaborate on our work" (i.e. chat) or I can read "something related to my schoolwork" (i.e. read one of the books I have in my backpack). I think I'll go for the latter idea.

Digging into my backpack for a random, non-textbook, piece of literature, I clutched onto something fairly big. I drew it out and found something I completely forgot I had: Mom's diary. Smirking softly, I placed the book in front of me and began reading, starting from the entry after the one Mom and I read last night. It was really weird, though. Dates were written down for about 2 weeks after the diary entry Mom read last night, but there were only partial or incomplete entries for them. It was also odd that the handwriting that I saw was a lot sloppier than the original writings that were in the diary. Maybe she was tired during the time she wrote the entries. I don't really know.

--X--

_May 1, 20XX_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today was…interesting, to say the least. Rukia-chan has been trying to help me with the powers that I've come across. I don't know what exactly will happen with my powers, but I do know one thing. I…am probably…the most…_

--X--

The entry cut off there for some reason. I was confused, but I decided to keep reading to see if I could find answers in the next entry. The weird thing was, there were little pen marks on the following lines that suggested that Mom tried to write something, but never got around to moving the pen in any legible fashion. The next actual entry's handwriting was a tad worse off than the previous one, but it was still something I could read.

--X--

_May 5, 20XX_

_Dear Diary,_

_Sorry about not writing. Luckily, the news for today is just about the same as the news for the past few days, so I…don't really have to worry about making up for four days of diary entries in one night. I…had a little trouble staying up with all I did the past few days. Truthfully, I didn't do much more than the usual things I did. I went to school and then I went to…somewhere…where Rukia-chan tried to help me with my powers. I'm sorry…I'm a little hazy in the mind right now. Details escape me like…_

--X—

The entry cut off again. There wasn't really much to work with when it came to information. All I knew at this point was that Aunt Rukia helped Mom out with her powers and that, by the end of the day, Mom was dead tired to the point that she couldn't quite write anything coherent. It was confusing, but I think I've already established that. The next entry was a little worse off handwriting-wise, but, in exchange for a little trouble reading it, the entry seemed longer than the last two.

--X—

_May 13, 20XX_

_Dear Diary, _

_For the record, I am DEAD tired right now. It's really difficult even to muster up the energy to write this diary entry right now. I know I'm supposed to be training my abilities, but am I supposed to be THIS tired? I cannot believe how badly this training process is turning out. True, I'm making a little progress, but this exhaustion is completely frustrating! I can't stand not being able to, well…stand after I fire off one or two rounds of whatever the heck I somehow miraculously can do! It's cool to be able to shoot fire out of my hands, but it is not cool that I am so exhausted by the end of it that I was not able to finish the diary entry from the last two times I tried to write in here! _

_Okay, now that I'm a little calmer about writing, I'll get around to writing down exactly what I've been doing for the past 2 weeks instead of leaving you in the dark with the vague phrase, "training my abilities". I've been working myself to the bone trying to control something that Rukia-chan calls "spiritual power". It's hard to explain, really, but this energy is something that…that I have within me that pools somewhere near my life force. This doesn't mean I'm shortening my life span by using this power. It just means that I have to dig really deep in order to get to this energy. And I don't mean "deep" as in the depth that you have to dig to find that burst of energy required to get you across a finish line at top speed when you're racing a person you really want to beat, but "deep" as in the depth that you have to dig to keep living through extreme pain and suffering or the depth you have to dig to keep moving through absolute exhaustion for the sake of saving a life: yours or otherwise. Do you get what I'm talking about? I'm not too sure if I explained it well enough. _

_Anyway, now that that bit of explanation is out of the way, I can finally get on to talking about… _

--X—

The tail end of that word stretched from the line that the word itself was so graciously seated upon diagonally downward and to the right, into the right margin, and off the cliff-side that was the edge of the paper. It was the obvious sign of one falling asleep at the wheel of the vehicle that was a thought process. Vehicle driving off of a cliff-side; it seems like a great little comparison, doesn't it? That's what these entries seemed like, really. It was kind of like what would happen if a sleepy person were to try driving. There would be a few close-calls, then, finally, the driver falls asleep at the worst possible moment leading into an ear-splitting crash.

And lo, the crash came not far away, as the next page held only two words and a punctuation mark written in black ink, much like the rest of the diary entries, but the words were frayed by random streams of ink and ink droplets, both of which littered the otherwise blank portions of the page: evidence possibly of a snapped pen. The words here were probably the most legible words I've read all day, despite the fact that I've been reading the printed paper of the school worksheets: the epitome of legibility. The words were bold and underlined numerous times.

"**DAMN IT!"**

The next entry was written in a different color ink altogether: blue. The first part of this entry consisted of a list of two things that seemed like spells, complete with incantations; the first of which seemed to be the one that Mom first used.

--X--

_May 18, 20XX_

"_**Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui"**_

_--"Ye Lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, Ye who bears the name of Man; Truth and Temperance, bear thy claws slightly upon the wall of sinless dreams!"_

_**Destructive Art 31: Shakkahô**_

_--"Ye Lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, Ye who bears the name of Man; Inferno and Pandemonium, surge the sea barrier, March onto the south!"_

_Dear Diary,_

_My God, my handwriting stunk for the last 2 weeks. And, after I opened up my dairy today, I almost can't believe I had the gall to write what I did on the page before this one. And also, just so you know, my pen DID break back there. The ink splotches on the previous page (as well as the ones on my hands) account for that. Ink is such a pain to remove from skin…_

_Well, anyway, now that I'm finally back on the ball when it comes to my handwriting, my schoolwork (which has slipped slightly in the past two weeks), and my state of consciousness, I can finally, TRULY write exactly what has been going on. As a side note, I just love the feeling of lucidity after a couple of weeks without it. _

_Rukia-chan put me through one hell of a training regiment to build up whatever I had as abilities. Basically speaking, it was a spiritual workout, but it wasn't anything like the meditation or prayer that some people do to "empower their spirits". Literally, I got my soul knocked out of me. Rukia-chan has this glove that has the ability to do that! It's a horrible feeling to be knocked out of the thing that you're used to being contained in (i.e. your body!), but there is something freeing about it. Despite the insanely large (yet weightless) chain that you tote about on your chest to keep you connected to your body, it feels nice to not have a mass assigned to you (at least, not much of one). Physics don't seem to apply in its entirety when you're just a mass of the something that makes up what you are. It's a little awkward, but I really liked it. It was really too bad that I only was able to enjoy this feeling for all of seven seconds before the remote clearing we were in turned into my personal hell. Rukia-chan said that I needed to gain control of my spiritual power before any progress can be made. That meant a grueling training session involving much running, dodging, and focusing on my ectoplasmic form, making sure I'm able to control my movements as a spirit. Then, after that brief warm-up, I was able to go back into my body. It is truly a baffling experience when you find that you're both exhausted and perfectly rested at the same time, but I didn't really have time to think about it because Rukia-chan had me try and fire off the spell that I used the first time around: Sôkatsui. If I failed, I had to try again. If I failed 3 times, I was knocked out of my body once more and was told to run about the clearing about 5 times (about 2 kilometers, I'm sure). Rinse and repeat. _

_For each day afterward until two days ago, it was exactly the same. Now that I've finally gotten at least a small it of control over my abilities, Rukia has taken the liberty of trying to teach me other spells, only one of which I've actually learned how to do well enough. _

_So, that's the story. I've been excessively tired due to the training (thus the horrid handwriting and the mysteriously incomplete entries). But, oddly, I'm not feeling as tired today, which is why I'm able to churn this out before completely turning in. On that particular note, however, I'll bid you good night. I am still kind of tired. _

--X—

That particular entry was a lot more satisfying than the previous ones. As I'm reading this, I find myself thinking that I'm reading the training session of a hero in a fantasy novel. The problem about that is the simple fact that this is my mom's diary. There's no real reason for me to disbelieve her words except for the sheer impossibility that can be associated with her diary entries. I mean, the magic and the monsters are unthinkable to believe; if they did exist, I would know about it from someone would have reported something about an occurrence like this.

Dwelling on this now does seem somewhat pointless. I am still at school after all; drumming my fingers on the tabletop, trying to pass the time while reading my mother's past.

Regardless, there is a small part of me that is still thinking about it. I look up to the beginning of the entry and mutter softly.

"'Destructive Art 33: Sôkatsui'…"

The bell rang moments later. It's time to go home.

--X—

_Many problems may be attributed to things not seen. When things are not noticed, they cannot be used to benefit. Even though the unnoticed may not be used to harm, either, ignorance may be just as destructive. _

_So, as the boy sits at his desk, his right forearm resting on the top of his right leg. He does not notice the flash of blue that appeared in his right hand for a fraction of a second a moment after he said the spell title. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Forsaken Character Chronicles Book 1:**

**Kurosaki Yuzu**

**The Clairvoyant**

**Chapter 4: Rejection**

* * *

It was a very curious thing, this diary. It had many, many entries from cover to cover and all were, to a degree, very succinct in nature. They were designed, in essence,to contain only what the original writer would need to recall the memory. Nothing more. Just like any other diary.

However, there was a little something off about it. It wasn't the fact that incantations—however nonsensical they were—nor the conversational tone that my mother wrote in. It was the fact that, whatever I read, no matter what it was, always felt so very _real_. Each entry had a presence that projected from the memory on the page right into my mind. It was almost like being there. I thought for a moment that mom would have made quite the author if she knew how to write like this.

Regardless, I walked home steadily from school. The autumn wind lapped playfully at the pages as I braced them with my fingers.

_May 25, 20XX_

_It was another sunny day. Despite how normal this was for a semi-summer's day, given what's happened recently, I shouldn't have been surprised something attacked. Unfortunately, I was..._

* * *

"So, when you add the pesto to the red-bean paste, you have to—have to—let it bubble on the stove for a little bit. That allows the sauces to meld properly..."

Two girls walked down a suburban sidewalk, chatting up a storm. The former, a shorter, younger, chestnut-haired one, listened almost fitfully at the description of the food entree that was being detailed. The girl—Yuzu, her name—was enjoying the chatter of her older, bustier, and taller companion. This was certainly better than the alternative of focusing on the bad mental images that come with the blow-by-blow instructions on how to make wasabi-laced ravioli with a red bean basil sauce.

It turns out that the older girl—Orihime—was quite content on keeping up conversation. As sister to one of her closest friends and a fellow household cook, Yuzu was regarded as a cross between a protege in cooking and a younger sister. Secretly, however, Yuzu reserved Orihime's recipes for references on what NOT the combine together. Nevertheless, the two enjoyed the conversation/humorous culinary debate as the older led the younger home.

* * *

"_Orihime was my guard today. Every time she goes on a culinary tangent (this time it was some sort of spicy ravioli with a red-bean herb sauce thing), I have to hope that I never EVER pick up any ideas in weird food combos. Karin would beat me so fast if I even tried it..."_

I blanched at the thought of the meaty, spicy, cheesy pasta with the herby, sweet pasty sauce on the top. The horror. I wonder what other things Ms. Orihime came up with back then.

As I thought, two noises knocked me out of my own head. One was a voice, the other a car horn.

"ANZU! Look out!"

I stopped suddenly, my swinging arm not six inches from the car door. I found myself looking at the visage of the driver, an older businessman who now looked as if I spat on his shoes. He sped off in a huff as I turned to face the voice that called me.

A little girl about my age with shoulder-length black hair came running toward me. Usually she has practice at the jiujitsu club at school, but I suppose today was different—apparent by the fact that I'm not a smear on the road right now. She lives next door to me and is a common presence at my house. We read, play games (video, board, card, or otherwise), chat and/or do homework, not necessarily in that order. However, recently, Ofuda Nagiko has been practicing on me the moves she learned during practice.

"Geez, you idiot! You think you can look up every once in a while? The guy almost made you into an apricot pancake!" Nagiko said, half-angrily, but with the undertone of teasing that childhood friends do.

"An Anzu pancake, huh? Very cute," I stated dryly at her bad joke, looking unblinking into her eyes, sparking the staring contest typical of us. This descended into a bout of laughter. I never really knew why the staring contests of ours were so hilarious. They just were.

"So..." she trailed, punctuating her beginning statement with a punch to my arm, "what had you so distracted anyway?"

"Oh, just my mom's diary," I said simply, "Don't worry. She gave me permission to read it this time," I added blandly as she administered the raised-eyebrow-of-disapproval. I explained what I just read and described Ms. Orihime's knack for the unknown food combination and Nagiko's face steadily twisted to that of slight disgust.

"Well, I _was _gonna ask if you wanted to hit that one ramen place, but I seem to have lost my appetite somewhat," she said with a slightly miffed expression. This was met with a laugh from me.

We have a bit of a ritual in place about walking home. After we've done what we've needed to do (i.e. eat out, get supplies, shop around, etc.), Nagiko demands to be escorted home. This is never a problem, seeing as, again, we live right next to each other, but there is an almost scripted chain of events by which I ask something to the effect of "Do I have to?" Unfortunately, since the start of last year and therefore the start of middle school and the start of Nagi's training in jiujitsu, this custom was disrupted. Since, apparently, club broke early and we're walking home, I assume she couldn't resist.

"I hereby demand, as reparation for your grievous destruction of my appetite, that you escort me home," she said in her typical haughty manner.

"Now why would I go and do that?"

"Because," she pouted, turning about from her overly regal tone, "you wouldn't leave little ol' me walking by myself, would you?"

Expecting her to follow, I started walking. "First of all, you live next door. Have been about as long as I could remember. Even if I wasn't, if you were to 'walk by yourself'', you would have to take the long way home." I turned toward where she was walking next to me as my face turned dry once more. "Second of all, you lost the right to pull the "poor-ol'-me" act when you held me up in one of those joint lock thingies."

She laughed. We walked. We chatted for a spell, but we ended up opening the book and reading some more.

* * *

The peace simply didn't last. It was expected. Ever since Ichigo and the others managed to rescue Orihime from the clutches of the hollows within Hueco Mundo, the frequency of attacks upon Karakura Town have increased dramatically. It was as if the hollows were attempting to gain a semblance of vengeance for the powerful Espada that the group managed to defeat. Though, by the Hollow's very nature, that was an impossibility. Regardless, the hollows were emerging to attack the targets with a high enough spiritual signature to detect—dormant or not. This made a two-fold threat: a threat for the defenseless who would not be able to detect their violent deaths at the hands of the spirit monsters and a threat to those whose powers have just recently manifested—people such as Yuzu.

At this very moment, one hollow was staring down both Orihime and Yuzu, the former ready to launch her weapon, the Shun Shun Rikka, into action.

The hollow in question looked like a grotesque amalgam of a rattlesnake and a beast that would be usually found in the Jurassic era. The head of the snake-beast was adorned with a fist-sized, rough-cut jewel the color of dried blood and the eyes of the serpent were piercing, but had the feel of being absolutely devoid of anything that you would see in the eyes of anyone human. The mouth was a gaping maw which seemed to never see the light of day adorned very simply by two horribly jagged fangs the color and texture of stained bone. The body was covered by an armor of bleached scales. However, halfway down the back of the beast, there were a black spot that seemed, from afar, like something that would seem to be another scaled area. Under closer inspection, it was revealed to be the hollow's hole: a fact exemplified by the snake's rearing back to attack, hissing in anticipation. The head alone added many, many points to the intimidation rating.

The name "Tsubaki" and the command "Koten Zanshun" were but whispers on Orihime's lips as the masculine fairy burst forth from her hairpin and hurtled toward his foe, wrapping himself in a cloak of energy.

The reaction was blindingly quick. A coil and a twist made it so the glowing blade flew by harmlessly. Disengaging after the miss, Tsubaki circled around and hurtled back toward the writhing mass of hollow, scoring a glancing blow from behind. The hollow brought up his tail in recoil, turned towards the un-shielded Tsubaki, and slammed the fairy into the dirt.

Orihime gasped as she saw her friend fall. The snake then turned and lunged towards the girls once more, but Orihime quickly brought up a familiar triangular shield with a hoarse yell of "Santen Kesshun." The limited effective range of the shield was quickly known as the writhing snake rained blows from all sides. A strafe of the shield prevented numerous grievous blows, but the occasional feint and twist was something that kept Orihime on her toes, preventing her from pushing the snake away.

Yuzu was left behind during these rapid exchanges between serpent and shield. After a short while of while her friend do battle, Yuzu began to focus downward onto her hands, attempting to will a spell into existence.

"Ye Lord, mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings. Ye who bears the name of man..."

She muttered in nervous and puzzled frustration. Yuzu could see the immense strain upon Orihime's face as she now attempted to split her focus between the warding between her form and the snake and the healing ward now surrounding and restoring Tsubaki. Darting to the side and raising her hands offensively to get a clear shot, she called out, "Destructive Art 31: Shakkahou!"

Answering her call was a simple puff of smoke.

"Oh, come ON!"

* * *

We sat in a pregnant silence, reading the details of the fight as it drug on for what seemed like miles on paper. We would a park bench to sit on since Nagi demanded to see the diary and neither she nor I were wanting a repeat of my close call earlier. Apparently, she found the story as engrossing as I did.

Throughout the read, she buffeted me with questions. The cascade started with a single question: "What's a hollow?" I flipped back to previous entries ad explained what I would. It wasn't my story, after all. More questions soon followed. Relatives and friends of relatives she's never net were mentioned. For example, Uncle Ichigo was one she remembered, as was Aunt Orihime, if only because of the bright hair. Aunt Karin and Aunt Rukia only tickled Nagi's memory, and the scant memories of them surely didn't contain anything pertaining to the fighting of bloodthirsty monsters.

Then came the question that was prodding me in an annoying fashion.

"Is this stuff even real?"

It was very much true that the events I've read so far could be compared to the stuff of fantasy novels. But, there's an air of sincerity that comes with the words on the page. When reading the diary, the images seem to pop out at me, making me believe it as truth. Of course, this kind of thing happens all the time with any fantastic story, but one fact prevents me from dismissing this as a work of fiction.

It was my mom's _diary_. By default, I, as a son, believe what my mother tells me. If that's not enough of a case, everyone who knows my mother says that she is a _terrible_ liar. To date, she was yet to lie about anything to Nagi and I. Even so, the dust and age on the book were all too obvious for my mother to have written any time before several years ago. Even if it was fiction, if she was making a fantastic story, why call it a diary when there would be better ways of presenting it? Why would my mom make a main character that was a mirror of her younger self?She is not the narcissistic. Not in the slightest.

These thoughts swirled wildly in my head, boiling down to a simple reply to Nagi.

"I really don't know."

* * *

Yuzu gasped in horror as Orihime was thrown back, a patch of broken skin and blood on her temple the evidence of a clean blow by the hollow. Mid-incantation, Yuzu could only watch as the snake reared back in triumph. Hastily finishing the spell, a concerned Yuzu dashed forward. Her head pounded with terror. She ran and muttered and the snake reared back to strike and she jumped forward and the snake jerked back and...

"Soukatsui!"

Yuzu found herself crouched between Orihime on the ground and the snake beast. Her two arms, her right braced with her left, were extended away from her body. Panting as a result of her frenzied rush, she looked onward in shock as she gazed nervously into the cloud of smoke covering where the snake's head was just moments ago. It was silent for a very stagnant moment.

The air then was ripped by an anguished half-roar of the hollow. Yuzu sprang up at the moment, attempting to prop up Orihime onto her back. It was a valiant struggle to get Orihime to the nearest point of cover when the snake attempted to purge the fire and smoke from its open maw. Quickly spotting a parked car, Yuzu moved as quickly as she could to get them to relative safety. As Orihime was set down, her hairpins fell from her limp form. The hiss of an enraged hollow echoed in the background as Yuzu picked up the unlikely weapons.

A sharp jolt of energy met her as she touched the plastic, causing Yuzu to drop them for a moment. Confused, Yuzu grabbed the pins, ignoring the energy surge, and held on tight.

Flashes of memory filled her vision: a helmet shaped hollow, a schoolyard filled with students with blank eyes and small roots small roots sprouting from various parts of their bodies, a black cat, Ichigo. Three words also echoed in her mind. "I reject," and "shield".

Filled with an energy she didn't recognize, Yuzu straightened. One of the memories made itself known at the sight of Orihime's body.

"Ayane, Shun'o," Yuzu said, almost robotically, "Souten Kisshun. I reject."

Yuzu opened her eyes at the sound of shattering plastic. Opening her fingers, she noted that two thirds of one hairpin were broken, replaced by two fairies. The fairies, confused, looked around quizzically, seeing as they heard their master's call only to find another person holding them. However, upon seeing Orihime prone on the ground, the fae flanked her at her head and feet and energized an ethereal shield. Within, Orihime's broken skin peeled away and evaporated, revealing the peach-tan skin that usually resided there. The wound healed quickly and, after a few moments, Orihime roused with a sharp intake of breath, a shudder, and a wince. Her eyes fluttered open and, in surprise to see the inside of her own shield, sat up, dispelling it unconsciously.

Orihime turned to Yuzu, still clutching the hairpins. "How did you..."

The cound of crunching metal and sight of their car cover being effortlessly thrown aside interrupted the question.

Orihime and Yuzu scattered. The former quickly snatched the whole pin from the latter as they both ran for cover. The snake-beast, split between the two targets, decided that the one that spent most of the battle expending energy on useless puffs of smoke prior to the firebolt moments before. Yuzu turned around, believing she was far enough, only to meet the quickly approaching jaw of the serpent.

"Santen Kesshun!" Orihime cried.

A orange barrier whipped up to meet the teeth inches from her face. Orihime, across the way, looked harried and worn, had eyes that burnt with the will to protect. This was not a new development. The fact that, Yuzu, somewhat attuned to the energy of the barrier in front of her, could see the fae carrying the shield, was.

The snake turned toward the now-exposed adversary. Sensing their master in danger, the shield dissipated and the three took off and took their part in the now familiar battle between serpentine part and ethereal ward.

Yuzu blinked and looked down at the piece of hairpin that was still in her hand. A small remnant of a voice rang in her mind.

"...I am able to reject things from both sides of my barrier. Use me to break through."

Yuzu, struck by inspiration, lifted her hand. "Tsubaki," she said, as if reading from a newly-written script, "Kouten Zanshun! I reject!"

In her outstretched hand, the piece of hairpin shattered, revealing once more the masked male fae. Compelled by the command, he hurtled forward.

Meanwhile, across the way, Orihime heard the call of her own attack. She looked past her foe for a moment and saw Tsubaki rushing with abandon. The snake, in response, seeing Orihime falter, dodged to the side, avoiding Tsubaki and jolting towards Yuzu.

Yuzu could only watch as Orihime called out commands like a general in an army. "Tsubaki, bounce off the shield! GO!"

A wild turn by the offensive fae and a gunshot-sounding clash sent Tsubaki towards the back of the serpent's head. The hollow never saw it coming.

The remainder of the walk home was one filled with paranoia concerning another attack and a heavy silence, probably concerning the strangeness of the ability that Yuzu had demonstrated today. Today, it was not a kidou she used. It was an ability that was unique to a select few. Even then, Orihime's fae were unique to her. It shouldn't be possible for anyone else to use them.

Orihime was far too quiet for the rest of the walk. Yuzu found herself missing her cheer.

* * *

We stopped reading because we were running out of light. Actually, that really didn't matter since the park lights that illuminate the paths clicked on, but that, coupled with the orange-red sky of sunset, gave a hint as to us leaving towards home if we wanted to get dinner.

Nagi and I made it home in one piece. We talked about our usual things: school, other friends, her clubs, my video games, other books that we've read. Our conversation carried us all the way home, as it usually did.

I'll never admit it out loud, but I really did miss this. Perhaps I'll stay behind and do some study hall stuff so we can do this like we have in the past. It means I can do less homework when I do get home. Maybe...

* * *

_The night, or even the twilight hour, can be one of the most fearful times. Most people fear the hunched over figure of the suspicious person walking across the street. However, in this town, there are more terrifying things to worry about. Worse over, they are the types that do not require the shade of night to hide well. So, this figure, hiding in the shadows that come naturally with the figure's very existence, peered hungrily at a girl and a boy, walking and reading a book._

_Another possibility of the suspicious is that people other than the target can suspect and cause disruptions in the plans of the menacing. However, seeing as few people can even see this figure, even in the clearest of days, this figure has nothing to fear._

* * *

A/N: This is probably something that is LONG overdue: an introduction! This is my first fanfic in this section of the site so I'm sure you all haven't even heard of me (especially since my other story isn't that great). My name is Mitsumaru and I hope you enjoy the story. I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long but, in between college and work and now summer activities, I don't have much time. However, I do want to get back into writing, so hopefully it won't take me quite as long (Three freaking years between the last chapter and this one? Holy crap!) to get the next chapter of this out.

However, there is a little bit of confusion about the storyline and the timelines I'm using. You see, there are two timelines I'm writing about throughout the course of this one story. The one with Yuzu as the main character is the main one, but the timeline with Yuzu's kid is the second one. It is approximately 25 years between the first storyline's end and the second storyline's beginning. I won't give away anything, but, at least for now, the second storyline involves Yuzu's kid wrestling with the believability of the story while reading along due to pure curiosity of Yuzu's past. The first storyline is one I can't quite say much about without ruining the surprise.

As an experimentation of a writing style, I am flip-flopping between the two timelines. It'll likely be a tad confusing, but they are separated in a way that I hope still remains clear. If you've taken a literature class that deals with the frame narrative, the model of this story is loosely based off of that style. If you don't know what it is, feel free to look it up. My teacher didn't explain it very well so I had to do the same at first.

And now, review responses!

**Miyaa**: I was trying to go for nostalgic or recollective, but I guess contemplative is close enough! I also always thought that Yuzu was being left out of the action. Even in the episode with the ghost cat, she was still just a support role while Karin and Jinta did the actual fighting!

**Tatsy**: Thank you very much for your complement! I try to at least make myself better than some of the other fanfics I read. The beginning was somewhat hard to write out, but I'm glad you like it!

**ClUeLeSs~**: Thank you very much! I have sided somewhat with the Grammar Nazis in the regard that the fanfic must be readable to be good, so I just try to make my story grammatically correct and the style just follows! I'm a little embarrassed to say that that little plot bunny was my fault. I intended to use the figure of speech, but I guess it came out wrong (I edited the chapter to see if I could clarify it a bit). Thank you again for the praise, though. I did try to give Yuzu the Forsaken Character some more depth in this story than the series did, so I hope you do like it. By the way, as an answer to your question, Yuzu is approximately 12 years old at the hollow incident.

**Whoami**: Yes, the mom is Yuzu. Her child is not also named "Yuzu", but Yuzu's child is reading Yuzu's diary. Look above in this chapter for the names. Finally, yes, Yuzu's surname is different in the story's present time frame; I just haven't revealed yet. The surname in the heading of the story, "Kurosaki", refers to Yuzu back during the first storyline. I hope I was helpful in clarifying!

**Revolation: **Thank you for the complement. Hopefully, I've gotten better since I started this story back in high school (holy crap, it's been a while)... When I got this particular review, I was stuck in a rut of college, but this review did get me to start planning storylines again. Thank you for that.

**Istangtao: **Glad to see that you see this story the way I was trying to convey it. Thank you very much! To be honest, if this matters, I started writing again after I got the review notice in my email about this review of yours. In that respect, thank you.


End file.
